


The Club

by Invictusimpala



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Anal Fingering, Angst and Fluff and Smut, BDSM, Bottom Dean, Dom Sam, M/M, Rimming, Spanking, Sub Dean, Top Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-10 21:53:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3304766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Invictusimpala/pseuds/Invictusimpala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean craves touch, and when Sam gives him the cold shoulder he is forced to find other options. A club down the street advertises a safe place to find a Dom, and when he gives it a try he's not expecting how much he likes it. He also didn't anticipate Sam's reaction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt I received on my tumblr. Thank so much for reading, enjoy :)

From motel to motel Dean follows Sam, and Sam follows Dean, but these days they barely talk. With Cas gone to who knows where, they’re left alone. Cas was their median, their break, but now that they have no one to neutralize arguments, they fight almost constantly.

There are silent rules in place. Dean showers first. Sam gets to pick where they eat. Dean gets to decide when they stop for gas or a break to get things between hunts.

But the one thing they fight over every day is who gets to pick which motel they’re staying at. Dean likes the cheap ones, but those are the crappiest motels on planet earth, and Sam has none of it. It drives Dean through the roof, and most times he sleeps in the impala to save an extra buck Sam doesn't care about. He tosses and turns, and the only thing he finds himself doing isn’t sleeping, but watching the doors and windows to make sure Sam is okay, to make sure he’s not in any danger.

Sometimes he drives away. Usually to bars, but more recently to clubs. The kind of clubs in these rundown parts of cities are nasty, and the guys in them are even nastier. They grind all over him, and they like to pin him against walls and kiss him.

While he doesn’t enjoy that so much, he does like the better clubs and gay bars when he can get to them without spending a hundred dollars on gas, when he can get out without Sammy noticing.

There’s an itch under his skin from not being paid attention to. It’s not that he’s self-centered or anything, but he’s touch starved. He craves being caressed and pushed around sometimes. But Sam refrains from touching him at all times, and Dean’s not sure why.

It’s maddening.

He’s in contact with the owner of the club before they even get into town. There’s a door with his name on it, the guy says, and all he has to do is show up and he’ll get the rest sorted out in less than ten minutes.

Dean tells him he doesn’t want a shitty Dom, he wants someone who’s experienced and knows what he’s doing.

Donney, the guy's name is, says there’s no need to worry. He’ll be blacked out from orgasming in no time. Dean slams his phone shut and doesn’t touch it until it’s time to leave.

The next day Sam asks him why he’s limping, but Dean just grunts and falls into the bed next to Sam’s and passes out like promised.

They’re stuck in this town for longer than they thought, so long in fact that they end up getting an apartment.

Dean picks it out. It’s on the outskirts of the city so it’s not too loud, and it’s nice enough that Dean comes back every night, and so does Sam.

They end up dropping the hunt. It turns out to be nothing, some mass murderer they turn into the cops with their hoods pulled over their heads.

He has no idea what Sam does in his spare time, but he sure as hell is excited to use up his own. The club finds Dean there consistently, at least once a week, and each time with another Dom that treats him better than the last.

He’s whipped, spanked, and fucked senseless. He’s tied up and forced to stave off an orgasm for as long as he can until there’s nothing to hold him back from the point of no return. One Dom tied him up with a vibrator and cock ring and left him there for two hours.

Dean didn’t like him.

He likes the one that touch him almost reverently, the ones that take their time with him. He likes the most recent Dom he’s been seeing. He likes for Dean to hold his soft cock in his mouth while he reads and calls people, while he does his work.

The room in which they go to is sound-proof, no one can hear them, and they can’t hear anyone but themselves.

Dean doesn’t know his name, but he likes how the guy will play with his hair, tug on it and thread it through his long, slender fingers. He likes how the guy pets his face and tells him he’s good, perfect, amazing, _beautiful_.

Dean can come from just those words being murmured to him, and the guy really gets off on that.

When they have to part ways Dean is almost sad. For their last night the guy massages and slaps his skin until Dean’s a writhing mess of want, begging to come.

He’s left battered and bruised in the best way possible, and he goes home feeling refreshed, anew. He feels alive for the first time in months, happy even, but that all comes crashing down when he comes home and forgets to cover his bruises. Sam is home, too, and Dean has no choice but to go up and accept his fate.

Sam’s asleep, but he wakes when the door slams shut.

“Hey, are you o -- hey, hey, hey, are you okay? Who did this to you?” Sam asks, and rushes over to a limping Dean.

When Sam touches him his knees buckle.

“M’fine.”

“You look like you were just beaten to death, what the hell happened?”

“I wanted it, Sammy, just let me go to sleep, I’ve had a long night.”

“You _wanted_ this? What, like . . . BDSM or something? Have you been going to that club? They keep calling here and . . . it’s you who they’re calling? Dean why didn’t you tell me or something?”

“Why in hell would I tell _you_?” Dean snaps, and Sam cringes.

“Is this why you haven’t been talking to me?” Sam asks quietly, sounding hurt.

“ _I_ haven’t been talking to you? You’re the one that’s been giving me the cold shoulder! Why the fuck did you think I’m not around? Because I got some day job? I’m not a fucking housewife.”

“Me giving you the cold shoulder? Dean, you --”

“Look, I’m tired, I just had a bunch of sex, I’m going to bed.”

“You . . . were you safe? Please tell me you wore a condom or something.”

“I’m not one to wear the condom, and there wasn’t one around, so no, Sam, no I wasn’t. Are you going to let me pass now, or are you going to start reciting the dictionary and asking what position we were in, too?”

Sam’s face turns bright red, and he looks like he’s about to burst, but he steps aside and lets Dean pass.

He sleeps no better than usual. If Sam’d stayed asleep he’d have slept like a baby, but now that he knows Sam knows about what he’s been getting up to, he feels sick to his stomach.

The next day Sam is uncharacteristically nice to him, like he’s dying or sick, making him food and letting him shower first without complaint, letting him take the nice rental car they have out. Dean doesn’t question it, he’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but he’s definitely skeptical.

Sam touches him a lot more, and Dean’s not complaining about that either.

He still goes back to the club every once in a while, but now that the craving for touch is being satisfied, Dean doesn’t feel the need to be touched in that way by people he doesn’t know.

The more he thinks about it, the more he loses interest. He’d like to have a full time Dom, he realizes, but there’s no way he’ll ever be able to fit someone into his life like that. He’d never take someone’s life away from them.

“Dean, can I talk to you for a minute?” Sam asks, and Dean follows him into the bedroom. Sam pats the spot next to him, and Dean’s brow furrows.

“What’s going on? You kickin’ me out?” Dean asks and Sam shakes his head.

“No, nothing like that. I . . . I know I don’t talk to you enough. I don’t touch you enough. Dean, I know you still go to those gross clubs and I’m not shaming you for doing it, it’s just . . . I’m jealous.”

“You’re jealous,” Dean repeats, and Sam nods his head sheepishly. “You’re jealous.”

“I am, okay? I’m jealous. I want to hold you and kiss you and I’ve been nothing but horrible, and all we’ve done is fight, and I don’t know what to do, that’s why we never talk, Dean. I . . . you don’t know how to handle your feelings, and neither do I. Can we just -- can we figure this out together? The right way?” Dean pauses, in shock, but he breaks through his reverie.

“Yeah, Sammy. Yeah, we can.”

Sam brings Dean in really close, pulls him into his lap, and then they’re kissing.

“Red means stop, yellow means pause, green means go, okay?” Sam murmurs against his neck, and Dean groans. He knows that system all too well, he knows Sam’s about to get down and dirty, rough and commanding.

Dean nods his head, and then he’s being pinned to the mattress roughly, and Sam starts to grind their hips together.

“Tell me what you like, Dean. I want to make you feel good.”

“Anything, I like everything.”

“Really? Even a little bit of this?” Sam asks, and turns Dean over, smacking his ass lightly, experimenting.

There are still some bruises from the last time he did that, and he can see the dark look of jealousy pass over Sam’s features when Dean groans.

“Fuck, yeah, ‘specially that.”

“I’m not fucking you until you get tested, Dean.” Sam leaves him hanging, and Dean whines. “No complaining. If this is what you want, and fuck, I hope you do, we’re not doing anything unless I know we’re both clean.”

Dean looks at him for a long time before nodding.

“That’s reasonable.”

A week later when their tests results come back clean, Sam tells him they’re going to have a scene tonight.

Dean’s bruises have healed, and all evidence from other partners have long since left.

Sam whispers in his ear that he’s going to mark Dean up, show the world that he’s his.

Dean shivers and leads the way to the bedroom.

Sam strips down slowly, teasing Dean. He sucks hickies into the skin of his thighs, pulls at the skin of his sac.

“Sam, Sam, don’t . . . shit, don’t do that,” he whines, thrusting his hips up involuntarily.

“Why? That hurt?”

“No, feels good, but that’ll make me come in a minute flat.”

“Good. You’ll be all lose and pliant for when I fuck this,” Sam says, and slips just the tip of his thumb into Dean’s hole. He shudders. “I’m going to finger you open real slow, but no touching your cock. If you need to stop touch me, or if you’re going to come.”

Dean immediately fists his hand in Sam’s hair, and he lets Dean have a breather.

“I . . . stop sucking on my -- oh god, Sam, Sam stop!” Dean whines, and comes all over his belly as Sam sucks on his balls. “Oh, Sam, _Sam_!”

“I told you not to come, Dean,” Sam growls in his ear, and he shivers as Sam strokes him until he’s finished. “Maybe a punishment is in order.”

“No, Sam, need your cock, please, need it, you promised.”

“I’m not done with you yet, baby, you’re still going to get my cock, but you need to learn your place. Roll over.”

Dean doesn’t even hesitate -- this is his favorite thing in the world and he’s not about to miss out on it because he refused to turn, although maybe he’d get more than five swats.

“You get ten, Dean, but no coming.” When Dean whines Sam shushes him. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

The first slap is a shock and Dean yelps, jolting forward.

Through the seventh it’s okay, but when Sam gets to the eighth, ninth, and tenth slaps he’s having to force himself not to rut into the sheets and come even though it feels like he’s going to drown if he doesn’t.

“When I say come you will, but not now. Not soon. You’re going to come on my cock and nothing else, Dean, promise. Can I open you up for me?” Sam asks, and when Dean nods he’s not expecting a tongue to lap over his hole.

“Oh, shit,” he breathes, and arches into the touch. Sam slaps his cheeks lightly again, teasing, and spreads them so he can suck on Dean’s hole better.

“Taste so good,” Sam slurs as Dean’s hole becomes increasingly slicker, sloppier. “Come.”

Dean makes an inhuman noise, one that reverberates off the walls he’s so loud as his cock jerks and he comes across the sheets, but even when he shoves at Sam’s head, stubble continues to chafe his thighs, and he’s still being opened on Sam’s tongue and his lips, wet with spit.

He lets his lower half drop to the bed, and he holds himself up on shaking elbows. Ducking his head in the pillow he groans loudly, and he has to bite on the cotton cover to keep himself quiet. His whole body seems to be vibrating with the effort to stay still, and with Sam enthusiastically eating his ass, it’s getting increasingly harder to.

“Gonna fuck your ass, Dean, mark you up, claim you, but no noise, and no coming. If you need to safeword you can talk. Okay?” Dean nods his head and ducks again. “No hiding from me, I want you open. Turn over on your back and keep your eyes open.”

He lets his eyes close for a brief moment before turning back over. He hisses through his teeth as the coarse sheets rub at his raw skin, but quiets when Sam shoots him a look.

With his hand slicked, he spreads Dean’s legs so he can fit fingers between parted cheeks to worm his digits into Dean’s already wet hole.

Dean clenches his teeth so he doesn’t accidentally breathe too loudly, or moan because finally, blissfully, Sam is touching him, and at the thought of Sam’s cock inside of him his own begins to thicken and fill where it lays against his stomach.

While Sam’s fingers stretch him one at a time, he massages Dean’s sac and starts to stroke his cock, paying special attention to that spot just under the crown that makes his eyes roll back in his head.

“Ah, ah, ah, eyes open.”

Dean struggles to open them, and he’s panting hard now chest heaving, fingers twisted in the sheets. He’s pulling so hard on them almost all four corners have come up off the bed, but they’re just going into the wash anyway, and Sam’s moving too well for him to have time to pay attention to it.

“Good boy,” Sam praises when he manages to crack open his eyelids, then he starts moving again. Biting his lip keeps his noises in, but his dick keeps twitching in Sam’s palm, and he can feel warmth churn in his belly. Suddenly he’s about to tip over.

He grabs a handful of Sam’s hair, and he stops moving to give Dean some room to calm down.

“Good?” Dean nods. “I’m going to fuck you nice and slow now, make you writhe until you can’t hold back your noises anymore and I’ll have no other choice than to smack your ass bright red again.”

Sam kneels in front of Dean, and he pulls him down so they can kiss. Sam braces his hands on either side of Dean’s head while Dean wraps his legs around his waist and then he’s thrusting in shallowly so he can get used to the feeling, and then all of a sudden Dean’s overwhelmed.

No matter how many times he’s done this he’ll never get used to it, but then he’s back in his room when he was sixteen with a little vibrator, coming and coming within seconds it was so good.

Now he’s able to stave off the orgasm, but he cries out and Sam laughs.

“Already, Dean? God, that’s hot. You’re going to come untouched on my cock, aren’t you? With my dick sliding through my spit? Then I’m going to mark you with my come and my mouth, bruise you all over so anyone that looks at you knows you’re mine,” Sam bites out, and Dean whines.

“Touch me, please, touch me,” he begs, and Sam obliges. Running his hands through Dean’s hair, Sam starts to pick up the pace. Fingers fit into the slots in his sides between ribs, and Sam rocks in deep, too deep. It feels like he’s being split open and torn apart all at once.

He needs more of it.

Dean moves back against Sam, tilts his hips just right so the head jabs at his prostate, and that’s it. Sam reaches between them to jack Dean through his orgasm, come spilling over his long, thick fingers. His eyes squeeze shut, and he jolts forward.

Sam has to catch him lest he land on the mattress as hard as he jumped from it.

“Scream my name,” he whispers, and Dean’s eyes flash open to catch Sam’s.

“Sam!” He shouts. All his muscles simultaneously lock, and then relax. Sam carefully lowers him down.

The over-stimulation makes him wince every few seconds, but then Sam comes and the look on his face when he does is almost as good as the feeling in his own gut.

Dean starts to float, and when he comes around he’s tucked under the blankets, lights turned off, and he’s clean. Sam’s spread out underneath him, a warm, solid, comforting weight as he starts to come down all the way.

“You okay? What do you need? You drifted off, and I didn’t want to wake you, so I cleaned you up.”

“Just gimme a few, still comin’ down.”

“What do you normally do for aftercare?” Sam asks, quietly and non-accusing, not jealous or anything, it’s just a simple question.

“This. Just like this. I like being touched.”

“I noticed.”

“Mm. You up for round two?”

“I think that’s enough for one night,” Sam breathes. “But, you still have that spanking for making noise, Dean, don’t forget that.”

Dean shivers.

“I won’t.”

Sam laughs again.

“You better not, because I have plans for you, and it involves you forgetting everything but my name.” Dean groans low in his throat and tucks his chin against Sam’s neck, tilts his own back submissively so Sam can bite down on the long chord of muscle sticking out against his still sweat skin. “Good boy.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “On your knees,” Sam commands, and Dean drops down on the little pad between his Dom's feet. Sam is sitting on the couch, legs spread so Dean can fit himself between them. “Suck,” Sam says, and holds his cock in front of Dean’s face.  
> Dean stares for a minute, licking his lips, but then he dives in over-enthusiastically.

“On your knees,” Sam commands, and Dean drops down on the little pad between his Dom's feet. Sam is sitting on the couch, legs spread so Dean can fit himself between them. “Suck,” Sam says, and holds his cock in front of Dean’s face.

Dean stares for a minute, licking his lips, but then he dives in over-enthusiastically.

He laps over the head, the taste of pre-come bitter on his tongue, and he squeezes the length not in his mouth to get more of it. He pulls Sam’s foreskin back and tongues under it, licks into his slit which makes his Dom above him groan.

Dean goes slowly as he starts to suck Sam’s cock into the back of his throat, and he swallows around the girth when he manages to.

“Oh, Dean, shit, you look so good, baby,” he praises, and Dean shivers. Fingers wind into his hair, and Sam starts to guide his movements by controlling the bob of his head. “Look at your lips all stretched around my cock. You are so beautiful, fuck, Dean, keep doin’ that.”

Sam’s head drops against the back of the couch, and he breathes out a shaky breath. Dean works harder, bobs his head up and down until his jaw aches too hard to continue.

Then he suckles on the head, stroking Sam’s now wet dick in his hands. He bunches Sam’s foreskin up so he can taste the pre-come exclusively, and then he’s getting a mouthful of come as Sam moans.

“So good, you’re so good at that, Dean, perfect.” Sam bucks up, and Dean chokes. “Sorry, sorry,” he breathes heavily, and Dean pulls off with a wet popping sound. “You gonna swallow?”

Dean usually doesn’t, but with Sam asking him to? There’s no way he can’t.

His throat flutters, and he gulps down Sam’s load.

“ _Holy shit_ ,” he hears Sam whisper, and he fights off the urge to hold his head high under the praise Sam’s spewing. “Go to the bedroom, I’ll meet you there. I want to try something.”

Dean walks to the bedroom quickly, and he lays down on the bed, on his back, with his legs spread. Sam walks in and shushes him, he didn’t realize he’d been whining. His cock is flushed bright red, dripping on his stomach, and he reaches to stroke it, the need too great to ignore, but Sam shoves his hand out of the way.

“Not yet, I wanna drag this out, show you how beautiful you are. Relax, this is goin' to take a while." Dean lets his legs drop and splay, and he doesn't let the whole going-to-take-a-while thing go unnoticed. But he trusts Sam. Sam's the only one he's ever trusted completely. "Can I have you?" Sam asks quietly as he drapes himself over Dean. Dean's eyes flutter shut.

"You always have."

Sam pins him down and sucks on his tongue before moving to his throat and down to his nipples that harden at the attention.

"So sensitive. Maybe I could get you to come just like this," Sam says as he laves over Dean's chest. "Please be loud for me, I wanna know what makes you feel good, baby."

Dean tries to be loud, he really does, but most of the Doms he was with wanted him quiet, and totally submissive.

But when Sam gets his mouth down between his legs, sucking on his cock and his hole, he has no choice but to come all over his belly with a loud whimper.

"Good boy, want another one?" Dean nods his head. "Good, because I plan on taking you apart piece by piece and putting you back together the right way. I wanna make you feel good, Dean -- let me, please."

Dean doesn't fight it, and he keeps his head tilted back for Sam as his cock begins to harden again.

"You are so beautiful. I can't say it enough. I'm gonna make love to you over and over, that sound good?"

"Yes, please, sir."

"Tomorrow I'll make you earn it, but tonight I want to see you come until you can't."

"Please."

"You got it, baby."

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](http://www.invictus-impala.tumblr.com)  
>  I am taking prompts there, if you're interested :)  
> (More info on that [here](http://www.invictus-impala.tumblr.com/prompt-info))


End file.
